


With Elegance, Narcissa Malfoy

by Captainraychill



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Explicit Language, F/F, F/M, Romantic Comedy, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-11
Updated: 2015-11-11
Packaged: 2018-05-01 04:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5192111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Captainraychill/pseuds/Captainraychill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little peek into Narcissa Malfoy's diary during the holiday season. Who knew such a lady would overuse exclamation points?</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Elegance, Narcissa Malfoy

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for nominating me this year for this wonderful fest! I appreciate that so much. My prompt was family.
> 
> Also, thank you to my awesome friend and beta, Unseenlibrarian! You are incredible!! Any remaining mistakes are all my own because I can't stop tinkering. Merry Christmas!

**With Elegance, Narcissa Malfoy**

Thursday, December 18, 2003

Dear Diary,

Baby Snake stomped around the manor today, throwing his annual Holiday Hissy Fit. He seems a touch more agitated this year. The mood pendulum swings from vociferous tirades to the sighs of the martyred. I wonder who urinated in his pumpkin juice. Probably Piddle. That elf is unhinged. Next year, I think I'll retire her to the "elf farm". Ha!

Less than a week until Christmas Eve, when Daddy Snake's Great-Aunt Bitch comes to visit. Why is she still alive? She's older than a slice of old, moldy French bread sliced over 150 years ago. Must I wait forever? (Insert martyr's sigh).

I want those jewels. I'm obsessed with them. Last night, I dreamt I lay completely naked in a huge vat of strawberry ice cream, my hair flowing loose, the Malfoy emeralds around my lovely neck. I looked _spectacular_ , and for some reason, my nipples were strawberries. I woke up randy and ambushed Daddy Snake's snake under the covers. He strutted about today like one of his bloody peacocks, which only made Baby Snake more furious.

"I wish Aunt Genevieve was dead!" he screamed at his dinner before Disapparating. (Presumably to take comfort in the bed of a certain frizzy-haired, heroic, Muggle-born slag he thinks I don't know he’s shagging.) Well, I wish that Auntie Bitch was dead, too, but it's not proper to voice such opinions. Except to you, of course, my darling Diary.

By the way, thank you for letting me know that Daddy Snake tried to open you again. Tried and failed. He won't be strutting around tomorrow when a nice, long lock of his gorgeous hair falls out. Just a bit. I don't want to mar his manly beauty, particularly during this festive season. He will "freak out". (I heard a teenager use that colloquialism in Diagon Alley last Saturday. It has a nice ring to it. Freak out. Lucius Malfoy is freaking out. Love it.)

With Elegance,  
Narcissa Malfoy

 

Friday, December 19, 2003

Dear Diary,

As predicted, Daddy Snake freaked out, and it was absolutely divine. I let him fret in front of the manor's many mirrors and in his potions lab for a few hours before I stood on tiptoe and whispered in his ear, "That's your punishment for attempting to read my secret diary." He looked down at me with a priceless expression of anger, fear and finally deep respect that warmed my heart. "You dare to touch the hair?" he asked with a sexy smirk. "I dare," I replied. With a wave of my hand, his hair grew back. I even added an inch all around. Then he shagged me, arse-up, over a work table strewn with crocodile heart. It's a wonder what that man can do with a cane. Let's just say his is _very_ well-polished now.

I was in such a happy daze all morning that I didn't even realize Baby Snake hadn't returned home last night until he stumbled through the Floo in the afternoon. He looked wretched and sad and trudged straight up to his wing without a word. He told me to go away when I knocked on his door. This is that crusty baguette’s fault! I loathe her, upsetting my baby so much. Every Christmas, he sings in those ridiculous robes for _my_ sake, so that the fly-bitten, shriveled-up, old truffle-pig will leave _me_ the Malfoy family jewels when she finally dies. Such a good boy, my Draco, so dear and loyal and self-sacrificing. Such an angel... I mean, oh, bother. I despise angels!

I wish there was something I could do to make him feel better... other than giving up the jewels. That, I simply cannot do. I dreamt of them again last night. I was wearing nothing but plaid boxer shorts while riding a Chinese Fireball and eating scones. The Malfoy rubies glittered around my delicate wrists. I looked _stunning_.

I'll make Draco talk to me tomorrow. He’ll tell me what’s wrong even if I have to lace his tea with Veritaserum. Again.

Mother knows all.

With Elegance,  
Narcissa Malfoy

 

Saturday, December 20, 2003

Dear Diary,

No need to drug Baby Snake. It all came out in the _Prophet_ this morning. What a scandal. Thank Merlin, Aunt Bitch hasn’t deigned the read the newspapers since that annoying Muggle invaded Paris in 1940.

Half the front page was an epic, full-color, repetitive slap of Miss Granger's hand against my Baby Snake's precious face. The headline read _Granger and Malfoy Split!_ with the addition of _Who Knew They Were Even Together?_ I only scanned the article, which was filled with sordid, second-hand "facts" about clandestine meetings in cafes and hotels and a trip to Switzerland. That last had better be a lie! It's acceptable to put a little Muggle-flavored spice in your tea, especially when young. Many a youth goes through “the phase”. But you _don't_ invite your impure trifle to the chalet! Even if she does have attractive eyes. Rather like amber. I’d never noticed that before.

Daddy Snake is IRATE. He never knew about the affair, silly dear. Now, he's stomping about the manor, alternating between vociferous tirades and the sighs of the martyred. Sound familiar? Meanwhile, Draco's still moping, locked up tight in his wing. Hush reported that he's not eating but that he is "drinking like a starving titmouse and has started to smell like an old wagon wheel". That elf has a strange way with words, but he's an invaluable spy and unwaveringly loyal – to me. No “elf farm” for him.

Yekaterina sent an owl, offering to distract me during this difficult time. We had the most splendid afternoon. We sipped hot chocolate in a charming Russian café off the Alley. We shopped. (I bought us both pairs of embroidered, baby dragon hide boots and white mink stoles.) I told her about my recent, jewel-inspired dreams. Then we had a light supper at her flat and spent the evening playing games. My favorite game involved us both naked except for those boots and furs with our tongues up each other's lady slippers. She's concocted the most luscious taste for herself, like butterscotch, which I adore. She claims I'm just as sweet although I stay natural for Daddy Snake.

When I got home at midnight, he seemed less agitated. I think I'll bring out the Pensieve and show him the latest Narcissa Yekaterina Sextravaganza. That always brightens his day.

With Elegance _and_ Embroidered Baby Dragon Hide Boots,  
Narcissa Malfoy

 

Sunday, December 21, 2003

Dear Diary,

Today was eventful. 

When I woke up, Daddy Snake was already gone, presumably to buy my gifts since he always waits until the last minute like an idiot. Hush was standing beside the Pensieve with an urgent expression on his ugly face. At first, I thought he expected a viewing of the Sextravaganza. Hopeless, perverted creature. But then he took a memory out of his bulbous head and placed it into the mist. I spent the next half hour watching my very inebriated, very disheveled son declare his undying love for... I shudder to I write this...

Hermione Granger.

HERMIONE GRANGER!

A MUGGLE!

What is that numpty _thinking_?

Muggle-Pureblood relations should be Dabble and Dash. Hit It and Forget It. But noooo – young Romeo _can’t live without her. I’ll love her forever. I just made the biggest mistake of my life ___(this from a man marked by Bastard Snake). _She’s right. I’m a coward. I don’t deserve Hermione’s hand in marriage._

MARRIAGE?! 

I write again with even more emphasis, MARRIAGE?!!! 

I knew what I had to do. 

I dressed in my most beautiful and intimidating robes. I dictated a blistering Red Howler for Hush to deliver to Baby Snake. Then I consulted the latest copy of _Witch Weekly_ for directions. Faithful WW readers are nauseated every December by Miss Granger’s fatuous do-goodery. Feed the poor, build a house, save mangy cats from burning or bashing or however mangy, unwanted cats are disposed of. This year, she was sponsoring a feast and singing carols with the inmates of a London orphanage.

I’m overjoyed to say she was so surprised to see me that she dropped a baby. Ten points to Slytherin for my merciful _Aresto Momentum_.

I am _not_ so overjoyed to say that my presence didn’t reduce her to a quivering pudding of fear. In fact, she faced me like an equal, chin held high and voice strong. Lucius can’t even look me in the eye when I give him the Stare, but Miss Granger Stared right back.

“I love Draco,” she said with absolute conviction. “I want to spend my life with him. But I won’t be his dirty, little secret anymore. I gave him a choice. Either he invites me to your home for Christmas Eve, or we’re finished...” This pause was the only time she faltered in the slightest. “So I guess we’re finished.”

I watched her, with grudging respect, as she led the pitiful urchins in a song about a deformed reindeer. Then I dropped a bag of Galleons into the donation box and Disapparated directly into my cozy private parlor, to gaze into a blazing fire, drink wine and think.

This is what I know.

Draco isn’t ashamed of Miss Granger. His tentative, new friendships with Harry Potter and other half-bloods and Muggles prove that. Also, the mad, drunken pride in his voice when he listed her accomplishments in the Pensieve. If he truly loves her, he hasn’t invited her to the manor for Christmas Eve for two reasons only. 

One:  
He’s embarrassed for her to witness him singing _Ave Maria_ in his soprano range while dressed like an angel, complete with sparkling white robes, wings and a _Lumosed_ halo. Aunt Genevieve has demanded this spectacle every year since Baby Snake turned four. She was in raptures when his voiced changed but his upper registers remained pure and true. Master of almost five octaves, he’s a miracle when he sings. But that’s no surprise. He’s been a miracle since the moment he was conceived. My miracle.

Two:  
If Aunt Bitch sees Miss Granger in the manor, she’ll shriek Mudblood to the heavens, and the jewels will never be mine. Never. And Draco knows this.

What will he do?

What will I do?

With Elegant Confusion,  
Narcissa Malfoy

 

Monday, December 22, 2003

Dear Diary,

Last night, I dreamt I was bathing in a tub filled with champagne and the Malfoy family jewels. All of them. Then the bubbly and gems turned into mud, not the expensive kind in a spa treatment but the smelly kind in a bog. I was sinking, almost drowning, when Hermione Granger strode up wearing rainbow armor and carrying the sword of Godric Gryffindor.

“Happy Christmas!” she said. “Let me save your life.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “Let’s eat iced biscuits.”

I awoke with a cry, which woke up Daddy Snake. He was still moody, but my perfect breasts turned his mood amorous – and a bit kinky. I tied him up, stuck a sex feather up his arse and rode him Reverse Valkyrie while listening to Wagner. Afterward, I told him about Draco’s drunken revelations and my visit to Miss Granger.

“I think he really loves her,” I said.

“Unthinkable,” he whispered. “The unblemished purity of our line will vanish.”

“Along with the jewels.”

At that moment, Draco knocked on our door. (He’s always knocked and waited, ever since the Circus Incident.) When Lucius was untied, defeathered and all our naughty bits were hidden under the covers, we summoned our son into the room.

I was astounded by his appearance. He wasn’t a boy anymore. He wasn’t my Baby Snake. He was magnificently handsome, his hair shining in the candlelight. He walked and talked like the noblest and most confident of men.

“Father. Mother.” He looked us both in the eye in turn. “I’m certain you’ve read the _Prophet_ and know about my relationship with Hermione Granger. What you don’t know is that I love her deeply. She’s the only woman for me, for the rest of my life. I want her to be my wife and the mother of your grandchildren. I want you to accept her into our family.”

This was met with our silence, but Draco didn’t waver. He stared directly at me when he spoke again.

“I’m spending Christmas Eve with her. At the manor, with your permission.”

Or elsewhere without your permission. The unspoken phrase rang like a warning bell inside my head.

“I know what this will cost you, Mother,” he added quietly. “And I’m sorry for that.”

Lucius squeezed my hand under the covers. The decision was mine.

Shall I leave you in suspense, Dear Diary? Shall I stick a sex feather between your pages and make you beg? You know you like it, you dirty book. You filthy tome. You slutty, slutty volume. Oh, all right then. Fine. 

After an adequately suspenseful pause, I asked, “What would Hermione like for Christmas?”

Instantly, my Baby Snake was back, grinning and bouncing around like one of those Muggle jack boxes. He embraced me, shook his father's hand and then raced to the nearest Floo, shouting out a less than fashionable address.

This afternoon, Piddle tried to climb the garland in the dining room. Tried and failed. That elf is definitely bound for the “farm”. Ha!

Also, I found the most exquisite, pattern-shift scarf for Hermione at Gimlikin’s, in a dozen flickering shades of amber. I forgot how much I love scarves.

With Elegance,  
Narcissa Malfoy

 

Tuesday, December 23, 2003  
Dear Diary,

Can’t write. Too much to do, all the final preparations. It’s mad here. I didn’t even find time to have an orgasm today. Unacceptable! Setting my wand to Vibe Five for a quickie at my desk. 

NM

  
  


Christmas Eve  
Wednesday, December 24, 2003

Fucking Diary,

 _I am freaking out_.

Today was the worst day of my life. Worse than the day that giant, evil snake slithered down my dining room table and ate Chastity Bumpkin. Worse than the day that vile, dead Hippogriff almost murdered my poor Baby Snake. Only _this_ day was a deceitful villain, all wrapped in glittering fairy lights and Christmas cheer. Bloody, horrible Christmas Eve! Everlasting, shove-it-up-your-virgin-arse HEARTBREAK!! BUGGER BUGGER BUGGER BUGGER FUCK!!!!

Great-Aunt Bitch, you are a swag-bellied cauldron full of toad waddle! Liar! Deceiver! Destroyer of ALL HOPE!! You _promised_ me. You all but promised me in words and made a rent boy of my beloved son, binding him to sing to you in that poof costume all these years. And now this VICIOUS BETRAYAL! You putrid goat bladder full of GOAT FILTH! You are dead - BLOODY DEAD - for the AGONY you’ve caused me!!!

And YOU... Miss Hermione Granger.

Shining Heroine. Noble Gryffindor. Perfect, cardigan-wearing, elf-loving unicorn of prancing goodness. I think NOT! You are a dissembling seducer of innocent, young wizards! A gypsy bint! A THIEF OF DREAMS!! By what cunning art have you entranced my sweet Baby Snake? I will _never_ allow this union. NEVER!!! I will gut you first. I will shatter your bones and rend your heart and drink your impure blood with two lumps of sugar from the chalice of your hollowed-out skull! I’ll make Draco forget that you ever existed! I HATE YOU WITH THE HEAT OF TEN THOUSAND FIENDFYRES!!!!!!

Forgive me, Diary. I’m more composed now. Half an hour has passed, and I’ve reduced the small daVinci in the library to a puddle of wet ash. I’ll make this brief so I may continue drinking like a starving titmouse. Eventually, I suppose I’ll smell like an old wagon wheel. 

On a more festive note, the manor looks divine, like a winter fantasy. This Christmas Eve, I was stunning in silver silk. Lucius and Draco dressed in sophisticated black. Granger (traitor pig-slag) wore red velvet, and Aunt Bitch (poxy, rancid hag), blue satin. The Malfoy sapphires were held hostage by that disgusting lump of yeasty dough she calls a neck. As she entered the parlor, a muscular male servant walked behind her, carrying an ornate silver box large enough to hold a baby. 

My heart raced. She’d brought the _jewels_. She’d never brought them with her before. Why now?

We were all shocked when she didn’t go into a rage the instant Draco introduced Granger. She just got this thoughtful look on her ugly face before saying, "Draco, sing for me.” I was seized by the slender hope that the jewels might not be lost to me.

Loyal, wonderful son – Baby Snake changed into his costume. He sang _Ave Maria _in his soprano tones, wearing sparkling white robes, wings and a halo of light. He blushed, mortified to perform like this before the woman he claimed to love. Aunt Bitch was transfixed, as she was every year. Granger seemed spellbound, too, her eyes filling with tears. When Draco finished, he ran straight to her and pulled her into his arms. He asked her, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” She said she’d never heard anything so beautiful. Then she whispered “I love you so much” as a tear slipped down her cheek. He didn’t even answer in his need to kiss her. His halo brightened around them until they were engulfed in white light.__

There was no doubt.

My son loved this woman, and she loved him back. Theirs was the same true, deep, passionate, soul-ravishing love that I shared with Lucius. I had fallen for my Daddy Snake at first sight when I was eleven years old. I’m sure you remember how much I wrote about him, Dear Diary. Fifty thousand words dedicated to his hair alone! I still lose my breath every time he enters the room.

Draco was in love, and I’d never seen him happier. So, as his mother, I was happy, too.

Until that fat, slimy, snail-eating, vomitous HORN-BEAST started blathering on about how she’d loved a Muggle-born named Etienne in her youth and how much happier she would have been if she’d just forsaken her family and followed her idiot heart.

And then she... Oh, Merlin, I don't know if I can write it. I am weeping and trembling even now, and I shall weep and tremble Forevermore.

She gave the Malfoy family jewels to Hermione Granger.

SHE GAVE THE MALFOY FAMILY JEWELS TO HERMIONE FUCKING GRANGER!!!!!!!

In that instant of devastating loss, my brain dissolved. My heart burst. The universe cracked apart. I remember screaming something about a _sulphurous harpy bitch expelled from the steaming arse of Hell._ Next, I woke up in my bed with Hush watching over me. I ordered him to bring me wine. Oceans and oceans of wine...

COCK SUCK BUGGER BUGGER BOLLOCKS FUCK!!! Hate! Hate! FIERY HATE!!! THOSE JEWELS ARE MINE, YOU FRENCH BITCH!!!!!!

You obviously don’t understand the power of a Black woman. Black women can “throw down” like no other. We mastered the sly crafts of torture and death at our SODDING TEA PARTIES!! By Rowena Ravenclaw’s perky tits, I held my own against _Bellatrix_. Do you think I can’t snap you in two with a thought? I will smash your shriveled head in with an iron candlestick. I will burn your intestines from the inside out. I will rip out your eyeballs and shove them up your dusty rectum with glee. I will make you bite diseased sheep. Bite them _hard_ , you rotten-apple-faced GORGON!!

And this I swear on my perfect complexion, Hermione Granger... YOU WILL KNOW MY RIGHTEOUS VENGEANCE, YOU REEKING, MAGGOT-RIDDEN, HEDGE-BORN CUNT BARNACLE!!!

For example:

You like house-elves, don't you? You like to fuck them, I bet. Suck their tiny, inconsequential dicks. Well, I’ll show _you_ , my little SLUT BLOSSOM. I’ll put Piddle on his chain and force you to watch me drag him to the “farm”. Do you think the “farm” is a pretty patch of land with cows and hay and a pond full of lily pads? Oh, how lovely! Look at that duck! HA! HA! HA! No. The “farm” is death and carnage. It is ELVEN EXECUTION! A factory that grinds them up and turns them into glue or handbags or parchment or I don’t know what. I don’t CARE what! ELVES WILL DIE!!! MANY ELVES WILL DIE!!! I will grind them to a paste in your name, SAINT HERMIONE, and I will make you watch every second of the slaughter. DON’T YOU DARE LOOK AWAY!!!

Did I mention that thing about drinking your blood out of the chalice of your hollowed-out skull? I can’t remember. SKULL CHALICE _POUR VOUS_!!!

OH MY GOD, HOW CAN THIS BE HAPPENING???!!!

FUCK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm off to destroy the large daVinci. Black Power.

Narcissa Malfoy

  
  


Christmas Day  
Friday, December 25, 2003

Dear Diary,

Hermione Granger is an angel.

A beauty sent from Heaven Above to save my dear Baby Snake from heartache and loneliness. So beautiful, so delicate, so clever, so _generous_. I'm confident that no woman in the world could make Draco happier. I welcome her into our illustrious family with open arms and an open heart. She _is_ a Malfoy. I’ve told my son, in no uncertain terms, that he is to propose to her by the dawn of the New Year so that she can become the daughter I never had and the mother of my baby grand-snakes.

After I rid myself of a pesky headache, Christmas morning was bliss. I never lie to you, Diary. You know all my secrets, but now that I’m brimming with happiness, I’d rather not dwell on the unpleasant events of last night. Great-Aunt Genevieve has returned to France, and she has taken the ill winds of despair across the Channel with her. _Au revoir_ , bitch! Alas, Hermione has also left, to attend a shabby holiday celebration at the Weasley hovel.

But she left her Christmas present to me under the grand tree in the parlor. The ornate silver box was large enough to hold a baby...

She gave me the Malfoy jewels.

SHE GAVE ME THE MALFOY JEWELS!!!!

I love her! I love her! LOVE HER SO MUCH!!!!!!!! ♡

She also wrote me a lovely note, which I shall affix here.

_Mrs. Malfoy,_

_These jewels belong to you and you alone. I am too plain to do justice to such breathtaking treasures. They should grace your beautiful neck and wrists - not mine. I wish you a Happy Christmas and a New Year filled with joy and love. I hope we become good friends._

_I repaired the large daVinci and asked Piddle to hang it back in the gallery. What a unique elf! He spoke at length about the elf farm where his sister, Puddle, retired last year. It sounds charming, especially the miniature orchard. I’ve never seen pears the size of acorns. Perhaps we can visit it together next summer._

_Sincerely,  
Hermione Granger_

_P.S. Restoring the smaller daVinci was beyond my skill. I put the remnants in a ceramic bowl in the kitchen. I beg you, PLEASE consult a professional to ascertain if anything can be done. Thank you._

The rest of the day was wonderful. We opened presents and ate lunch and sang carols before the fire. In the late afternoon, Baby Snake left to meet Hermione at her flat. (I’m considering calling her Lion Snake. What do you think?)

As soon as we were alone in the manor, Daddy Snake stripped off all my clothes in the middle of the parlor. We made sweet, Christmas love three times – in his leather wingback, against Magical History in the library and at the foot of the grand staircase. That last one was my favorite. I was completely naked except for ten select pieces of the Malfoy jewels (including the diamond tiara! I’m the prettiest princess! Not you! Not you!) We lay on the polar bear rug and transfigured the ceiling into a mirror. The Angry Dragon position afforded the best view of both our gorgeous bodies and my jewels.

For an unexpected fourth round, Lucius surprised me with another gift. He’d lured Aunt Bitch’s muscular servant from her employ and had dressed him up for me as an Egyptian slave, complete with sexy eyeliner. Did you know that the Great Pyramid at Giza was the _largest_ structure in the ancient world. Really, really, really large and _hot_!

Happy Christmas to me!

With Elegantly Quivering Thighs,  
Narcissa Malfoy

  
  


Saturday, December 26, 2003

Dear Diary,

I’m bone-weary, but tradition is tradition. 

In no particular order, my goals for the New Year are:

❊ Have my portrait painted wearing the best Malfoy jewels.  
❊ Have the small daVinci professionally restored.  
❊ Audition five sets of twins, both sexes, for Daddy Snake’s birthday orgy.  
❊ Bring back scarves.  
❊ Invite Molly Weasley to tea. Civility must be established before the wedding.  
❊ Take Lion Snake to the chalet for a mother-daughter weekend.  
❊ Book an appointment with Andrin to discuss the lace for the dress.  
❊ Create quaint elf farm (no quotation marks); Dian would be the perfect designer.  
❊ Hire a hit wizard to “off” Aunt B. First choice, The Raven. Second choice, The Dolorosa Kid.  
❊ Host the wedding of the century.  
❊ Convince Draco and Hermione to live in the manor.  
❊ Discover what that Amazonian shaman wants in trade for his fertility nuts (glass beads, liquor, white women?); Lion Snake _will_ be pregnant by next Christmas.  
❊ Learn Portuguese.  
❊ Have the peacocks re-bleached.  
❊ Master pages 101-150 of _The Kinky Witch's Illustrated Guide to Modern, Magical Sex_. (Try Page 121 under a waterfall; try Page 147 with a centaur).  
❊ Lose ten pounds.  
❊ That last one was a joke. I’m absolutely flawless. 

After a nap, I’ll find Daddy Snake and complete _this_ year’s final goal while roleplaying Page 100 as Lord of the Manor and Naughty Milkmaid. Lucius always looks _so_ delicious in those short, frilly skirts.

With Elegance and a Cane,  
Narcissa Malfoy

  
  


**THE END**

**Author's Note:**

> Some of Narcissa’s more creative insults were lifted from the following site of Shakepearian insults: http://www.pangloss.com/seidel/shake_rule.html


End file.
